A puzzle to put together
by John M. Nox
Summary: After a failed attempt of killing himself Lavi woke up with no memory of his past and no one to help him except for an annoying doctor that apparently knew him some time ago. Unfortunately not everyone wants Lavi to remember who he was... AU Laven.
1. Preface

Memories give us context. They tie us down to our own little reality and it is through the lens of those memories that we see the world around us. They are, in essence, the things that keep us sane, or at least as sane as one can be nowadays. I guess that's why Alzheimer's is a disease so feared; starting to lose our hold in reality must be pretty fucking scary.

It starts out with small things like: 'Where did I leave my keys?', 'What did I want to talk to you about?' all these annoying questions someday start becoming: 'What am I doing here?' and 'Who are you?' Then we start to forget important people to us and places that we held dear. We lose context, and therefore, also ourselves.

The only silver lining one can find is that this probably won't happen to you until you're well within your twilight years and by then you'll be too senile to care that you just flashed the paper boy or that you don't recognize that woman posing next to you in all those pictures.

I wish I could say the same about me.

The reason why I'm writing this is because I think someone should know about what I've done and what I'm about to do. In a few weeks from now, a small group of people and I are going somewhere where I'm sure we won't come back alive. We all know it and we've all come to terms with it. I know it sound stupid to talk in such an ominous way, instead of trying to find a way out of this situation I stay here and fill out some journals with tales I'm sure no one will believe.

And I can't really blame you for that. Hell, sometimes I don't even believe it. But I'm getting out of subject. For now, let's just say that since I woke up from that comma a few years ago, I've gotten to the point where I question everything; even the passage of time, which is why I won't date these writings. Miranda Lotto taught me how relative time really is, believe me, after spending with her a couple of months, clocks and calendars start looking like nonsense.

I guess what I really want out of this little memoir is to know that someone out there will know of me, of us. I know it sounds like I'm going through a mid-life crisis but due the things I've seen these past couple of years I've come to realize how terrifying it is to simply cease to exist and no one giving a crap. I don't want that, we've worked too hard for that. So whoever you are reading this, I beg of you: Remember the Exorcists.

I'd tell you my name but frankly, I'm not even sure what that is anymore. People say my name is Lavi, that I'm twenty two years old and that I'm the last surviving member of the Bookman Family. Never heard of it? That's sort of the point, but I'll get into that later. Right now what matter to me is giving you context, so what I'm about to tell you sound as least crazy as possible. I don't know if I'll be able to accomplish that.

Before that however, I'd like you to know of the one thing I'm certain. The only thing I've never questioned during all the hardships, the agony and the pain. The little patch of certainty of what I'm about to tell you is what has kept me sane all along.

I'm madly in love with the man sitting in front of me. If you're disgusted by this then I guess this will all have been for naught and you're throwing this journal and then washing your hands furiously. I don't care. I guess I'm just too happy to care. My love for him has made me stand up and scream when everyone else told me to sit down and shut up. It's gotten to the point where I don't even care that I'm going to die soon. As long as we're together, I don't care.

If you've decided to continue reading: thank you. You had me worried there for a second.

Like I said, I'm going to write about the journey that started with me waking up from a comma and ended with a bunch of people inside a dingy hotel room in Japan waiting for our fated death. Sometimes you'll be wondering how I can remember so well some of the conversations and events that I'm about to describe and I know you may not believe me when I say that that's what I live for: remembering and recording.

But anyways, it all started when I woke up from a comma with no memories whatsoever…


	2. Author's Note

Hey everyone:

So I've gone a really long time but your reviews and favorites made me comeback. The thing is, I don't think I'll be able to continue with the current story of "Puzzle to put together".

That doesn't mean I'm quitting.

See, the problem with the story is that I wrote myself in a dead-end, I've gotta confess that I really didn't know where I was going when I started it and now I'm paying the price. Some of you noticed this and I've realized that the only way to write something that I'll like is if I restart the story. Some things from the old one will remain (like the Laven) while others will change hopefully for the better.

But I've also have to admit I'm not completely sure where this story is going either. Don't get me wrong, I've got most of the plot already planned but I'm prone to suddenly changing it because I thought of something new.

Also good news, I'll TRY to make an update every two weeks so the story might actually progress to a decent pace! But the updates would come faster if I had a beta since English isn't my first language and screening for mistakes takes me way too long and often a lot of them get past me.

On a completely unrelated note, due to some annoying homework I need to learn about other cultures so if you're from any other country except Mexico please contact me at this address: jomimacman gmail . com I just need to ask you a few questions about your country, society, culture, etc.

I guess that's all. I'll see you guys later then.

John M. Nox

P.D. this message will be deleted when we get to the fifth chapter.


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